


Dopamine

by JudusEye



Series: Oxytocin [1]
Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Meet the Family, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:25:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18580090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JudusEye/pseuds/JudusEye
Summary: Eight months ago, Doc told his mother he was in a happy, committed relationship. There was only one problem; Doc wasn’t in a happy, committed relationship. But he can't tell her now, because his sister is getting married and he's expected to bring his boyfriend with him. Finding a volunteer is surprisingly easy, but what comes next is far more challenging.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why can't I just like the popular ships instead of rarepairs :(  
> This story is gonna be loooong so I'd love it if you visited my tumblr (@juduseye) and talked to me about head-cannons or just anything <3 Also send some requests, I love to take little breaks while writing this big story
> 
> I write on my phone so formatting might be weird

The phone call ended with a low beep and Doc’s stomach sank. 

Eight months ago, Doc told his mother he was in a happy, committed relationship with a man. She was overjoyed just as he predicted she would be; she always preached to him about balancing work and life. Bringing up her own experiences as a young adult to further her point that he could be invested in his job but also have someone by his side; because if she could become the CEO of one of France’s largest and most influential banks and have a happy marriage raising two successful kids, then what is stopping him, her prodigy, from doing the same? 

No matter how many times he tried to explain to her how different their jobs were - and she really didn’t understand that one day Doc could very well not come back home (or maybe she just refused to believe something like that could happen) or the stress that would put on someone - and how much he really didn’t want a spouse, she had it in her mind that he was fooling himself into complacency. 

There was only one problem; Doc wasn’t in a happy, committed relationship with a man. 

It was supposed to be a little white lie. Just to get his mother off his case for a while, and it worked phenomenally, better than he expected, to be honest. She called him less often, and when she did those calls were spent talking about other things rather than repeating the same arguments they had every other week. His office work was finished in record time, and he felt like he had never slept better in his life during those eight months. 

And now it was coming back to bite him in the ass. Because his sister - his precious, baby sister, Odile - was getting married to her girlfriend of 10 years and Doc was expected (demanded) to be there. 

With his supposed boyfriend of eight months. 

Who didn’t exist. 

Oh dear god, he had to go find Montagne. 

—— 

“What?” 

Montagne look down at him with an apologetic smile, “I am leaving for a mission in Iraq in two days.” 

“And you won’t be back for …?” 

“Nineteen days.” 

Doc cursed violently in his mother tongue, drawing a couple eyes over to their conversation. Curious to what had their stoic medic so upset, despite their lack of understanding French. 

It had taken him a couple minutes, but he finally found Montagne in the common room, explained his dire situation in rapid pace French, only for his best friend to decline. 

“Why don’t you just tell your mom that you and your boyfriend broke up?” And that earned another string of curses from the doctor; some directed at Montagne, who was grinning at his friend with unconcealed humor. This was not a time to be cheeky. 

“My mother is… a very clever woman. It would be very suspicious if I told her I broke up with my boyfriend days before I’m supposed to show him off to her. She would absolutely know I lied to her.” That was not an exaggeration; Doc never got away with anything as a child, or an adult. He swears his mother either has eyes on the back of her head or a sixth sense for when people were lying. Being caught in a lie was a can of worms he didn’t want to open, especially when he would be seeing his mother face-to-face for the first time in two years. 

He knew he should’ve told her they broke up a week ago when his gut told him it was time, but for once in his life, he didn’t listen to it. A real rookie mistake on his part. 

“Do you think I can convince Six to let you off the Iraq mission?” He had meant it as a joke, but the more he thought about it, the better it sounded. Six liked Doc, he was the main doctor on her payroll, and kept her hand-picked operators alive and healthy; she wouldn’t mind doing him a little favor. After all, there were plenty of other Rainbow members who could fill in for Montagne and - 

“Gustave.” Montagne’s stern voice caught his attention and pulled it away from his musings. The look Doc received was nothing short of disapproving. “You want to somehow convince Six to take me off the mission roster, with only a two-day warning by the way,” he emphasized lowly, “so I can pretend to be your boyfriend at your sister’s wedding.” And yeah, when he put it that way, it sounded silly. 

“Quit pouting.” 

“Shut your damn mouth.” Doc made no move to ease his frown. 

“Why don’t you ask Julien?” 

Doc snorted, “We both know that he cannot lie for the life of him. He would come clean before my mother even had a chance to ask him his name. Not to mention he’s 20 years younger than me. My mother would never let it go that my ‘boyfriend’ was that much younger than me, I would be called a cradle robber for the rest of my life.” Montagne chuckled at that. It was quiet for a moment as the two thought, Montagne breaking it to suggest one of the dumbest things Doc has heard in a while. 

“How about Olivier?” 

The poisonous look Doc sent him could’ve killed a lesser being. 

“I would rather be caught lying than take that arrogant son-of-a-bitch,” each word spit harshly, “near my family, especially when I have to pretend I love him, much less like him.” Montagne frowned at him like a disappointed father, a mix of what should I do with you and you should know better. And Doc really should know by now not to speak badly of Lion around Montagne, the blonde man was under his protection. 

Montagne believed in second chances - no, not even that - he believed everyone could get better (third chances, fourth chances, fifth chances). He had a habit of taking in the bruised and battered, the haunted and hunted. 

(He had his eyes on Maverick next. Doc saw it in the way Montagne followed the other man’s movement. Saw the blank expression on Maverick’s face accompanied by red eyes and a jittering leg; a kicked puppy that Montagne was going to take in.) 

(Montagne took him in at one point. A bomb, a white sky, young blood, cold red, the scent of death and anguish. Sour helplessness.) 

Montagne’s jaw flexed, and Doc rushed to move away from the topic of Lion. He didn’t need to be lectured by Montagne on how Lion was trying to get better or how petty Doc was being, again. Maybe one day he will learn how to like Lion; today wasn’t that day. 

“Damn Six for putting you on that mission, doesn’t she know I need your assistance more than some politician,” he joked light heartedly, glancing up at Montagne in time to see his expression shift; his frown persisted for a moment before his head shook minutely, he seemed to decide he didn’t want or have time to get into the Lion debate again. 

“You shouldn’t have lied to your mother then. Maybe this will teach you a lesson.” What kind of lesson, Doc didn’t know. It wasn’t like he made a habit out of lying to people, like some others on base did. Montagne saw the confusion on his face when Doc squinted up at him but refused to explain, instead offering an enigmatic smile. 

“Whatever,” Doc huffed, “I have a week and a half to find a boyfriend then,” a pregnant pause, “My god, I haven’t seriously dated since I was 30. What am I going to do, Gilles?” And there Montagne goes again, laughing at Doc’s very serious problems like they were a joke. “Stop laughing at me. This is serious.” When Montagne did the exact opposite of stopping, Doc put his hand to his face, “Why am I friends with you?” He muttered, exasperated. 

“I’ll do it.” The sudden voice startled Doc, who tensed up and whipped his head to the origin of the voice. To his right was Castle, standing casually with his omnipresent, easy-going smile. In the back of his mind, he realized Montagne had stopped laughing but something was pulling at his attention. Something about what Castle just said wasn’t right, other than volunteering to play the part of his boyfriend, that is. He couldn’t put his finger on it and it was starting to irritate him, like when a note was flat in a chord; glaringly obvious but hard to find which note was making the mess. 

“Pardon?” 

“I’ll go to your sister’s wedding with you, if you want.” 

With rising horror, it dawned on Doc what was wrong. 

Castle was speaking French. And was referencing his and Montagne’s conversation, meaning he could comprehend not only French, but also Doc’s rapid pace and informal French. Castle had heard him whining about his situation! When had he learned French? His files said he only knew Latin, Spanish, and Korean. He never heard Castle speak French before and with how well he understood Doc, he must have been learning for more than a year. 

Montagne was laughing again and that broke Doc out of his shock, shutting his agape mouth. He silently cursed himself for acting so unprofessional, but didn’t he already pass that line when he loudly complained about his personal issues to his coworker in the open? Sure it was in French, a language Doc was sure no one in the room fully comprehended (Thatcher must know some French curse words, because he almost choked when Doc spit out a particularly foul string of words) but that didn’t change the fact that he still did it, or the fact that he was wrong on his assumption. He was going to leave the gossiping to the younger ops from now on, but right now Castle was waiting for a response, his smile a little more amused than before. 

“I appreciate your offer, Castle, but you really don’t have to.” He replied hesitantly, in French, with a polite smile. He doesn’t mind Castle, in fact he rather liked him. They worked together amazingly, both being heavy armored anchors with gadgets made to protect. 

Doc would often join him to do arm and chest workouts when Montagne wasn’t around. Castle was a good teacher and workout partner, he spotted for Doc when he would bench press and gave tips so Doc wouldn’t pull a shoulder muscle again. (Rook was too impatient to wait up for an old man like Doc, and Doc didn’t like his regimen; too energy consuming for him, but Rook needed it to burn off his extra calories.) 

It also helped that Castle was one of the easiest people to treat when he got hurt, which was a seldom occurrence in the first place. Doc never had to track him down after a mission because Castle always headed to the infirmary on his own for his check-up. He followed Doc’s instructions on recovery to a T, which he could say didn’t happen often when his patients were all competitive, hotheads. Castle was his favorite type of patient. 

And while it was silly and mundane, Doc also loved having someone to speak Latin with. 

“I would like to; I have always wanted to visit France outside mission related reasons.” He sounded so damn earnest. 

Could Doc say no to that? He trusted Castle to work well with his family, he knew French (so Doc didn’t have to spend all his time translating), and he wanted to go. But Castle was known for his protective streak, a trait that went along with his deep-seated urge to take care of others and make them feel safe and calm. Him volunteering could very well be a knee-jerk impulse to soothe Doc, but before he could confront Castle on it, someone yelled from across the common room. 

“Miles! Let’s go, we got a briefing in ten minutes!” 

Castle sent Thermite a thumbs up. “Text me the details, Doc.” His smile towards Doc was reassuring, which brought Doc an odd sort of comfort, as he hurried out of the common room to meet up with his fellow American. 

Just as quick as he had shown up, Castle was gone. 

“Looks like you got yourself a boyfriend.” 

Doc was going to maim Montagne.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god the feedback from last chapter made me melt you guys are so kind <3 Thank you!  
> This chapter has more world-building and backstory (which you can expect from future chapters too) than the last chapter, hope it doesn't bore you too much! Next chapter will have more action  
> Also check out my tumblr @ juduseye ! Just come into my messages and scream!

Doc did end up texting Castle the details, after careful consideration. Which included him almost driving himself insane thinking about what could go wrong and all the options he didn’t have. Castle was great, he was friendly and trustworthy, but they were professional colleagues, not close friends. He didn’t know a thing about him outside of work. What if two days into the trip, Doc discovers they are almost complete opposites and Castle’s kindness was a front to a darker personality. He had cursed himself when he realized how much of a social hypochondriac he was being. 

He called Six to ask for permission to leave before he even looked at flights. “A sightseeing vacation” he had called it; no way in hell would he be telling Six about his failures as an adult human being. After a bit of discussion, she agreed to let him and Castle leave the base for a week. (She was confused as to why Castle was going with him but didn’t ask many questions. Bless her.) 

Booking the flight was considerably more difficult to do. After scrolling through dozens of options, he was tempted to just ask Six to let them take a military transport to France. It took an hour, but he finally found an eight hour flight from Toronto to Paris for the following Tuesday. 

Doc emailed the tickets to Castle, who was in Greenland on a mission along with: Thermite, Kapkan, Thatcher, and Twitch. They were due to stay in Greenland for five days; the first three days to locate the intel and find the most successful point of attack, the fourth day to breach and clear the White Masks’ base, and the last day to hold down the base while Greenland officials take over and to search for information in the base. A good team of hard breaching attackers and strong defenders; Doc was only concerned that Twitch may go crazy after being around Thatcher for so long, but he trusted the others to keep tensions low. 

After day two, the Greenland squad went on radio silence which was Doc’s least favorite part of any mission. He always listened in to the radio transmissions, that was no secret. It was for his own sanity that he listened in, preparing for any medical emergencies that should arise (and he was glad he did when he had to guide Jäger through the motions of packing and closing an open wound when Bandit was down and out from blood loss caused by a vicious stabbing). 

They weren’t allowed to come off radio silence until the last day, and Doc was patiently waiting to hear from the group while doing paperwork in his office. When the tell-tale sound of static of a radio path being opened broke the silence, Doc put his pen down to pick up the radio. 

“Doc?” Came a voice from the radio, muffled from the sound of rushing air but clear enough for Doc to recognize Castle’s voice. 

“This is Doc.” 

“We have a situation.” Doc’s stomach dropped, his legs working on their own to push him away from his desk. 

“Explain.” His voice was even and controlled as he pulled on his white coat, radio switching hands as he shoved his arms through the sleeves. 

“Kapkan was caught in an explosion a couple hours ago and hit his head. He was acting normal after the impact but now he’s getting dizzy and nauseous. I think he has a concussion and it’s getting difficult to keep him awake.” 

“Check his scalp for lacerations. Is any clear liquid coming from his ears or nose?” 

A ruffling came through the radio which Doc took as his cue to set it down on his desk so he could focus on fixing his examination table. Keeping a close eye on the radio, he tugged the role of sterile paper from behind the headrest to cover the entire table. 

The radio crackled, “No lacerations or clear liquid.” 

“Good. What do his pupils look like?” 

No immediate answer, but something that sounded a lot like ‘Kapkan oh no’ filtered through the white noise followed by the unmistakable sound of retching. “One moment please.” 

“Understood. What’s your ETA?” 

“Five minutes.” 

Doc nodded to himself. “Did he lose consciousness after the impact?” 

“I don’t think so. If he did, it was only for a couple seconds.” More rustling, a groan, then Castle started talking again, “Both pupils are dilated, the left one more than the right.” 

“D’accord (okay), try not to let him fall asleep. It won’t kill him, but it will make my job easier. Are chlorine tablets still working on him?” An affirmation from Castle. “He has a moderate concussion, but he will be fine. Anything else I should know about?” The relief from the other line was palpable, and Doc would bet the other three were listening in (not that he minded). 

“Thermite burned his arm while setting up a breach charge because he wanted t-,” Castle began, a smile in his voice, before the mentioned man butted in, “Thermite did no such thing!” 

Doc huffed, an eyebrow raising on impulse, “I’ll have to have a talk with Thermite.” Ignoring the man’s protests (pleads), he carried on, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be hanging up. See you soon.” 

“Vide te mox (see you soon).” 

He smiled at that; maybe Castle enjoyed having someone to speak Latin to, too. The radio went silent. Doc set it down and moved to leave his office, keeping the lights on and door open; grabbing a tube of burn relief ointment as an afterthought. The infirmary was across the hall from his office, so it only took a moment for him to flick the lights on before moving on towards the outside. 

\---- 

The helipad was alive with motion when Doc arrived. Technicians and engineers hurried to put everything in place to ensure a smooth landing. In the distance on the horizon, the Huey carrying the Greenland squad appeared; the large helicopter covering ground quickly. Doc stayed near the wall of the base as the Huey hovered over the landing pad; the force of the air that the Huey displaced was nothing to scoff at, and Doc didn’t have proper ear protection on. 

When the Huey landed and stabilized, Doc was reminded of the pit-stops in the Italian races he used to be fond of as a kid with how quick and precise the technicians worked together in tandem. A handful of people wearing reflective vests hurried forward to attach clasps together, pull on wires Doc didn’t know the meaning of, check the rotors, and finally open the hatches to allow the operators to exit the Huey. Thatcher was the first to hop out, the older man stretching his arms over his head - the Huey could fit nine people but that didn’t mean it was a comfortable ride - before turning to offer a hand to someone still in the cab. Surprisingly, it was Twitch who took his hand to stabilize herself while jumping out, but when she stumbled on impact with the ground, Doc figured she must be too tired to hold a grudge against the SAS member at the moment. He was sure he would be hearing all about how Thatcher was too close minded and stubborn to see the necessities behind technology in the morning. 

He was amused to see Thermite grab Thatcher’s hand while the older man was distracted with Twitch. While Doc wasn’t close enough to hear what he said, he could see the older man’s shoulders heave in a big sigh. The American used his new found leverage to put on a show of stepping daintily out of the Huey, his free arm reaching out to the front as if he were lifting a ball gown out of the way of his feet. Ever the gentleman, Thatcher waited until Thermite was on solid ground before shaking his hand off; Thermite shaking with laughter that just barely met Doc’s ears. 

Camouflaged legs peaked over the edge of the green metal of the Huey, Kapkan scooting on his butt to the door. Thermite turned to grab the man’s shoulder and helped to pull him out; the Russian stumbled when he put his weight on his feet, quickly supported by the last squad member who jumped out of the helicopter with a feline-esque grace. Castle looked up and caught Doc’s eyes, the two giving each other friendly smiles. Pulling Kapkan’s arm over his shoulders, Castle made his way over to Doc; followed closely by the other three. The entire squad was in similar states of tired undress: headgear pulled off to reveal flattened hair, all unnecessary gear missing from their person (probably in the storage spot in the back of the Huey along with their weapons and gadgets, the technicians would take care of them). 

Twitch was the first to reach him, pausing only for a moment to lightly squeeze Doc’s upper arm in response to him patting her back before disappearing through the doors. “How was the base while I was gone? ‘Liza get bored without me?” Thermite asked with a grin. 

“It was unbelievable quiet; I’m sure Ash will agree.” 

“You say that like it’s a good thing.” 

Doc replied with a neutral ‘hmm’, prompting a laugh from Thatcher who was passing by. Thermite gestured over his shoulder to the other man, “That’s because we took this old geezer out of his nursing home for a bit.” Doc couldn’t see Thatcher’s face, but he was sure the older man was wearing a magnificent frown. The complete opposite of Castle, who was chuckling quietly at his teammate’s antics. 

“Don’t encourage him; I thought you knew better,” Doc reprimanded him lightly, reaching out to gently grab Kapkan’s head and hold it up from where it was drooping forward. Castle held his teammate still as Doc searched the Russian’s face; his eyes were closed and there was a sheen of sweat over his face. “Kapkan?” The man grumbled a bit, eyes making an effort to open but closing when the sunlight hit them. Best to move him to the infirmary then; he didn’t want him getting sick again. 

“Castle, would you mind taking him to the infirmary with me? I’ll need help moving him around.” Castle nodded, adjusted his grip on Kapkan and motioned to the door with his head. Thermite took that as his cue to jog ahead and hold the door open for them, which Doc thanked him for. The man turned to head the opposite direction before Doc called his name, a stern look on his face that contrasted Thermite’s sheepish one. 

“Don’t think I forgot about you.” He fished in his coat pocket, pulling out the metallic tube of burn cream he picked up earlier and tossed it to Thermite. “Put it on. If you don’t, I will hunt you down. And I will know if you don’t,” he threatened with a disciplinary finger. Thermite gave him a jaunty, little salute, “Aye aye, Captain.” 

“I’m serious.” 

“I will, Doc. I swear your worse than my mom,” he chuckled as he walked off. 

Doc shook his head at the man; motioning for Castle to follow as he made his way down the corridor leading to the infirmary. 

“Kapkan?” A groan that sounded something like a ‘yeah’, “What day is it?” The man was quiet for a moment, “Wednesday.” Doc nodded, not exactly what he was looking for but it was correct so he wouldn’t complain. 

“How was the mission?” He asked Castle, glancing to his side where the man mentioned kept pace easily despite carrying most of Kapkan’s weight. 

“Eventful,” he answered simply, a distance tone in his voice as he thought, “Lots of White Masks crawling over the place. It took us hours to clear the building out, it probably would have taken twice as long without Twitch’s drones to scout ahead. Can’t say Thatcher was happy to sit back and let her do her thing; though he didn’t throw a huge fit about it either.” 

“Hmm, yes. I’ve heard Dokkaebi complain about him before. I’m sure he acts more serious in the field than in training. And how was defense?” 

Castle huffed, “Not the cleanest.” 

Doc raised an eyebrow at that, prompting Castle to explain himself. 

“The White Mask’s must have been able to radio in that they were being attacked by how fast reinforcements arrived. A large portion of the new arrivals were suicide bombers.” Doc frowned at that. That wasn’t a typical White Mask strategy; they usually kept their suicide bombers on defense, it was easier to ambush attackers that way. Those bombers weren’t something to play with, ladened with heavy armor and a lack of self-preservation, they caused the most injuries out of any other White Mask group. It was terrifying how many suicide bombers they had on hand, how they had so many people willing to kill themselves for a cause Rainbow was still clueless on. The weight of it settled on him, a huge boulder right on his shoulders, because the White Masks were endless and one day, they may just overwhelm Rainbow. 

“I think they were trying to use their explosives to destroy the intel in the building. It was like we were second priority,” Castle sounded as confused as Doc felt. 

“Did they manage to destroy the intel?” 

“Parts of it. One managed to blow up inside the control room, destroyed half of the computers and their hard drives. Most of the hard files are intact, they will be scanned and sent to the intel team.” 

Doc nodded, reaching the door to the infirmary first but motioning for Castle to enter before him. He didn’t have to be asked to immediately make his way to the examination table and maneuver Kapkan to lie flat on top. “I assume Kapkan was knocked over by one of these bombers?” Castle opened his mouth to answer but was beat to it by the man in question himself, “Ya.” 

“How long ago did you hit your head?” Leaning over Kapkan, he pulled out a small pen light. Pulling his eyelids apart with his left hand, he shined the light into gray eyes, watching the pupil carefully. It shrunk when the light connected with it; Doc made a mental note and moved on to the other eye. Same reaction; that was a good sign. Doc turned the light off and grabbed a patient form off his desk, filling it out with mechanical swiftness. “Two hours ago.” Doc looked to Castle to check with him, writing it down when Castle nodded. He set his clipboard down to run his fingertips over Kapkan’s head, checking for swelling or dents. When he found nothing, he picked the clipboard back up. 

“I need you to answer some easy questions real quick, just to make sure you have no memory damage. What is your name?” 

“Maxim Basuda.” 

“How old are you?” 

“38.” 

“Where are you?” 

Kapkan’s eyes opened blearily, looking around slowly, “Infirmary.” 

“Good. You have a concussion, but it’s wore off enough for you to be able to sleep. The symptoms didn’t show up immediately due to your high adrenaline levels, which is a common effect. You will need to spend the night here so I can keep an eye on you and wake you up every 3 hours to make sure you can still wake up.” Kapkan’s protesting grumbles went ignored by Doc who was already dialing Glaz’s number on his office phone. When Glaz picked up, Doc asked him to grab a pair of Kapkan’s night clothes and anything else he may need, to which the younger man agreed. 

“Glaz will be here soon with something for you to sleep in, so don’t fall asleep just yet. I don’t want to strip you down if I don’t have to.” Kapkan grumbled at that too, probably upset he couldn’t fall asleep immediately like he undoubtedly wanted to. 

It was quiet for a moment; only the soft noise of keys jingling and tapping as Doc unlocked one of the cabinets and grabbed an orange bottle of pills. He read the label on the bottle despite already knowing the contents; better safe than sorry. 

“Need some company for the night?” 

Doc nearly sputtered at the sudden question; the phrasing of that question made it sound as if Castle was offering to warm Doc’s bed instead of having an innocent sleepover in the infirmary. But yes, of course he did; staying up all night was no fun in itself; alone, it was even worse. But- “Castle, you just got back from a five-day mission. I can’t ask you to stay up all night just because I may get bored.” This man and his unwavering altruism. 

“I’m really not tired and I would like to hear about your family.” 

Castle made it really hard to say no when he was so damn earnest, and the puppy eyes he made while Doc debated the pros and cons wasn’t helping. 

“Fine, but at least take a shower and change.” Castle’s smile was blinding, and Doc could feel his own lips twitch at the sight. “Go on then, I’ll be waiting.” Castle nodded and made his way to the door, passing Glaz on the way out. The man had a drawstring bag thrown over his shoulder and a pillow tucked under his arm, “It’s Kapkan’s, he gets neck pains if he doesn’t use it,” he explained when Doc gave him a questioning look. Good to know. Doc turned to rouse Kapkan only to see the man was already sitting up with a pouty frown, “Took you long enough,” he grumbled to which Glaz rolled his eyes. 

Doc took the bag from Glaz and handed it to Kapkan who immediately dumped the contents onto the table beside him. Huffing shortly, Doc grabbed the edge of the curtain and pulled it away from the wall to give Kapkan privacy to change. 

“What happened to him? He doesn’t look hurt.” Glaz asked with a concerned frown. “He received a moderate concussion on the mission. I’m keeping him overnight to make sure no complications arise. He should be good to go in the morning.” Doc explained, Glaz nodding along. “Good, Tachanka was worried. I had to convince him to stay in the dorms after he overhead your call.” That was expected. 

When Rainbow first formed, Doc was concerned Tachanka was too apathetic to be a good teammate, too apathetic to care for his other teammates. But the longer Doc watched him, the more he realized just how wrong he was about the Russian. Tachanka cared for the other operators in his own way, especially his fellow Spetsnaz. A more hidden and brash way, easily overlooked as testosterone fueled sport. Never before had he seen someone get six teeth knocked out in one punch until some big-shot made a racist comment about Fuze’s Asian features while they were staying at a temporary base in America. Of course, Doc had to pretend to reprimand the completely unapologetic Russian, but after dinner, Doc commended him and glued the skin back together over his split knuckle. 

“Good. Now go along, get back to bed. I’ll let you know if anything happens.” Doc flapped his hands at Glaz, the man shouting something in Russian to Kapkan. His reply made Glaz laugh as he was practically pushed out of the infirmary. “Goodnight, Doc. I’ll make sure Tachanka doesn’t come bursting in at 6 A.M..” 

“Merci (thank you), have a good night.” 

Glaz waved to him as he turned the corner, Doc huffing at the display. But he couldn’t be mad, because this side of Glaz was preferred over his usual reservedness. A sharp inhale from behind him reminded Doc that he still had a job to do, no time to reminisce on his teammates. 

“Kapkan?” When no reply came, Doc hurried to the examination table. He couldn’t see Kapkan with the privacy curtain in the way, so he grabbed the edge and gave a verbal warning before he pulled it open. 

Kapkan was sitting on the edge of the table (thankfully decent), his legs dangling above the tiled floor as he poked at a dark bruise on his thigh. His hand retracted immediately when he realized he was being watched. Doc raised an eyebrow, “What are you doing?” A sheepish look crossed Kapkan’s face, “Nothing,” he said with an innocent shrug. “C'est ce que je pensais (That’s what I thought),” Doc muttered under his breath, reaching out to pull the Russian to his feet. He wrapped his arm around Kapkan waist, his other arm grabbing the pillow Glaz brought. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

It wasn’t too difficult to maneuver Kapkan into one of the infirmary’s twin sizes cots, he was supporting his weight better than he had with Castle. Doc waited until Kapkan was settled down with his pillow under his head and the infirmary pillow tucked against his belly, then unfurled the blanket at the foot of the bed and pulled it over Kapkan’s legs. When the man made no move to pull the blanket any higher, Doc sighed and tugged it up over his shoulders. He stood there a moment, looking over his patient as he drifted off. It could have been much worse. He could have been torn apart by the blast. His skull could have filled up with his brain blood when he was thrown back. His neck could have snapped on impact. 

“He’s fine.” 

He turned to see Castle watching him from the doorway, two mugs in his hands. Doc caught his eyes and for a moment, everything was still. A sub-conversation was being discussed beneath the silence. One that spoke of what if’s and all its horrors, replied to by a softening of eyes (understanding). 

“Ouais (yeah).” He replied softly. 

Castle was the first to move, walking forward to put the mugs down on Doc’s desk; moving on to lift one of the extra chairs and set it down beside Doc’s rolling office chair. The expectant look he received was the only invitation Doc needed to slowly walk over (not before he glanced over Kapkan once more) and take his seat beside Castle, who passed him one of the mugs. “Coffee with sugar.” Just how he liked it. He nodded absentmindedly, mind wandering down dark paths. 

“Tell me about your sister.” Doc startled at the soft voice, he almost forgot Castle was here. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before beginning to talk. 

“Her name is Odile. After Odile Versois, the French actress. She was my mother’s favorite; she loved the movies she starred in. I can’t count how many times I’ve watched The Last Vacation,” he paused, thinking about what to say, “She is seven years younger than me, born four days after my birthday. We always had joint birthday parties, but she would get more gifts than me every time.” Castle laughed. 

“I understand that. All four of my siblings were born in September with me.” 

Doc’s eyes widened, “Four?” he repeated disbelievingly. 

Castle smiled, “Yep. Me, Maya, Malcolm, Mary, and Martin. See any similarities?” They both chuckled. 

“I bet your mother mixed your names up quite often.” 

“I think I was called Maya more than I was called Miles.” Doc smiled as he took a drink of his coffee, humming in approval at the flavor. Castle noticed, “I brewed it French styled with espresso.” 

“You know a lot about French culture,” Doc noted slyly, looking up at the man through his lashes, “I didn’t know you could speak French.” 

Castle scratched the nape of neck and looked away. “I noticed you prefer to speak French over English, so I thought I would learn so you would be more comfortable when we talked.” 

If Doc were even a drop more undisciplined, he would have short circuited at that explanation. A younger Doc would have blushed furiously knowing someone learned French just to talk to him. But this was Castle he was speaking to; it was probably nothing to him to learn another language, especially one that is so similar to Spanish, and it probably meant nothing, just another way to be as helping as possible. And yet, he still discreetly cleared his throat, taking a sip of coffee to hide his smile. “Merci (thank you).” The other man’s blush going unnoticed in the dim light of the desk lamp. 

“You said your sister was marrying her girlfriend of what? Ten years?” Castle asked. 

“Yes. Ten years, it has felt much shorter. Her name is Lucienne. They met in Luxembourg. Odile got lost in the capital city and was wandering for nearly two hours before ‘a literal angel of a woman’,” he quoted with his fingers, “took pity on her and helped her find her hotel. Odile invited her to dinner and Luci accepted. I’m not sure how such a composed and elegant woman ended up with my sister, but I’m glad someone keeps her in check when I’m gone.” He couldn’t stop the bit of sadness that slipped into his voice; he loved his job, he was meant to be in the field saving people, but he quite missed his family back home in France. 

A warm hand on his shoulder. He followed the brawny arm all the way up until his eyes connected with Castle’s; he didn’t say anything, but Doc felt comforted anyways. Less than a week, he would see his mother and sister again. He could only hope this visit goes better than last. (Anything would be better than last time.) 

They spent the rest of the night exchanging stories about their families and rousing Kapkan every three hours; much to the man’s displeasure. Doc used to call his sister ‘vilain petit canard’ (ugly duckling) after learning she shared a name with the evil, black swan from ‘Swan Lake’; which lasted all of three days before his mother found out. Castle tragically found out he was allergic to soy after his sister dared him to drink soy sauce straight from the bottle at a Chinese restaurant. 

When Tachanka burst in at six thirty A.M. - because he ‘couldn’t wait any longer, Glaz’ - he generously didn’t comment on the fact that Doc was pressed against Castle’s arm dozing; simply sending the American a friendly nod while escorting a dazed Kapkan from the infirmary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> update on that oneshot, its almost done :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your feedback, I cry every time <3 This chapter is shorter, sorry! But you get to meet Mama Kateb next chapter! Also come say hi at my tumblr (juduseye)!

The next couple days were spent preparing the base for the absence of their main doctor. As stern as Doc was, he was relatively forgiving of harebrained stunts that some of the operators pulled. But  Finka , who was graciously subbing in for Doc, was not. So not only did Doc have to show  Finka around his office and infirmary and explain where everything was, he  _ also _ had to get it into Bandit and friends’ thick skulls that they really couldn’t afford to piss  Finka off. She  _ will _ let them suffer for a while before helping; like she did when  Fuze dislocated his pinky and ring finger by carrying too much weight with it (Doc wasn’t exactly sure what had happened; Finka mentioned something about grocery trips when she came to get a splint). 

Doc always tried to make time to check up with Castle,  often times in the morning where they would drink coffee Castle brewed and chat about recent world events. It was pleasant surprise to learn that Castle had a similar political view and moral conviction to Doc; a nice change of pace from the cynical pessimism that most of the older operators had. 

“How are you, Gustave?” Twitch asked in French when he sat down across from her, a Tupperware filled with a home cooked meal of guinea-fowl and steamed potatoes between his hands that Rook eyed interestedly from his spot beside Twitch. It was the table the GIGN had unofficial reign over, the one they chose when they had their first meal together at base; every CTU had their table that was off limits to others unless you were invited or considered a good friend amongst the group. Such as Twitch, who was allowed to sit at the German table due to her friendship with IQ, Jäger, and Blitz. Bandit tolerated her presence, but his team liked to force him to socialize with other groups, so his complaints fell on deaf ears. 

“I am well. I leave for Paris tomorrow.” 

“Oh! For your sister’s  wedding right?” Twitch smiled brightly when he nodded, “I can’t believe Odile is finally getting married, those two were just too cute when I met them.” That’s right, Doc had nearly forgotten Twitch met his sister and Lucienne. After a mission in France, he and Twitch had to wait a day before their flight would arrive;  so he called Odile up and she took them out to dinner with Luci. Twitch fit in immediately, which meant Doc was tormented by two women who made it their goal to tell  all of his most embarrassing stories. Which was, now that he thought about it, probably why he forgot about that night. 

“And you’re taking Castle with you? Right?” Rook asked distractedly, staring down Doc’s lunch intensely. Doc huffed, stabbing a piece of guinea-fowl with his fork and handing it over to the man. You would think he hadn’t eaten in days by the way his eyes lit up and how quickly he popped the white meat into his mouth. Twitch chuckled at her teammate, while Doc simply raised an eyebrow. The warmth of a hand - a sensation that was quickly becoming familiar - settled on his shoulder, Doc glancing upwards to see Castle looking down with a friendly smile. “Do you mind if I sit with you guys today?” 

“No, go ahead!” Twitch switched to English, not aware of the fact that Castle was fluent in French. He would have to tell her sometime. Doc nodded, gesturing to the seat beside him that was usually filled by Montagne. He glanced to Rook, though he was sure the young man would have no objections as social as he was. 

Castle thanked them and sat down, turning to talk to Doc when Rook piped up, moaning in French around the food (Doc’s food, the little bastard stole another piece of guinea-fowl while he was distracted) in his mouth. 

“Your meat is so good, Gus.” 

Twitch’s eyes bulged as she slapped her hands over her mouth to stop herself from spitting out her drink. Three sets of eyes snapped to the young Frenchman, who was suddenly aware of the attention he was receiving. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, thinking about what he just said. The way his face paled then immediately darkened with a furious blush was all they needed to see to know Rook figured out why they were staring.

“ Wa -wait! That’s- That is NOT what I meant!” He stumbled over himself trying to explain, only made worse by Twitch, who was giving Santa Claus a run for his money with how deep-bellied her laughter was. 

Of course, laughter is contagious. So not even a second later, Castle was giggling - higher pitched than Doc would have thought - and bumping into Doc’s arm with every shake. Doc tried to stay stoic, but it really was just hilarious, and he broke when Castle  _ wheezed _ . He hid his face in his hands as he laughed quietly, which Rook did not find funny at all. 

“Stop laughing! I didn’t mean for it to sound like that! People are looking! Stop!” He whined, drawing out the ‘o’, and while Doc couldn’t see Rook, he was sure the younger man was bright red and pouting. 

They didn’t stop. It took six minutes for them to finally be able to stop giggling when they thought about it. Twitch wiped the underneath of her eyes delicately, “Oh my god, Julien! I can’t believe you said that.” Rook groaned from where he was slumped in his seat, having gave up on keeping them quiet. “I meant your cooking was good. It tasted good,” he grumbled, then perked up, eyeing Castle suspiciously. “You thought that was hilarious.” 

Castle looked confused but replied slowly, “Yes?” 

“You speak French.” It was almost funny how accusing he sounded about it. Twitch, who had been frowning as she tried to follow Rook’s train of thought, suddenly gasped. “Castle, Je ne savais pas que tu parlais Français! ( _I didn’t know you spoke French!_ )” Twitch was similar to Doc in the fact that they both preferred French over English, so she was always happy to learn she had a new conversation partner. Rook, on the other hand, preferred English, and one could tell with how tight his grasp on the language was; no French accent in his voice and his frequent use of English slang. Doc had a habit of asking Rook to explain some of the things the younger ops said; what does ‘yeet’ mean and why did Mute yell it when he threw a cup _full of water_ down the hallway?

While Castle answered the two younger operators’ questions - when did you learn? what made you want to learn? do you like French? - Doc took turns between finishing his lunch and watching Castle animatedly talk. The conversation going in one ear and out the other as his mind drifted. 

As hesitant as he had been a week and a half ago, Doc was glad that he had agreed to bring Castle with him, he had begun to enjoy the other man’s company. After the night in the infirmary, it was like they had clicked together; they complimented each other. 

They were leaving for Paris tomorrow.  _ They _ . What an odd concept. But Doc had to remind himself that he was supposed to be dating Castle, and supposedly had been dating him for eight months. Which brings up something else; Doc needed to have a discussion on boundaries with Castle. What displays of affection were he comfortable with? Hopefully most if not all, because Doc needed to sell the idea that he was in love to his mother. But that wasn’t a conversation to have in front of Rook and Twitch, or anyone to be honest. Maybe on the car ride to the Toronto airport, where they would be safe from eavesdropping and it would be quiet. 

Like it was now. 

What. 

The first thing Doc’s eyes focused on was a pair of warm, hazel eyes, amusement crinkling the corners. His vision expanded to see the whole picture: Castle smiling at him, Rook grinning smugly, and Twitch, who had a knowing look on her face which seemed entirely misplaced. “Was I staring?” Doc asked despite knowing the answer, and the nods he received from his teammates were far too eager. 

The rest of the lunch when on without a hitch, Twitch taught Castle French idioms and Doc ended up giving Rook most of his guinea-fowl (Doc absolutely did  _ not _ have a soft spot for the younger man and he was absolutely  _ not _ affected by his puppy eyes at all). When Doc got up to leave - he had to attend a video conference about a new drug that was supposed to clot blood faster by stimulating extreme platelet growth, something that could be the difference between life and death - a hand lightly grabbed his wrist; falling away when Doc turned to face the table. 

“6 A.M. at the main doors?” Castle double checked. Doc nodded. 

“Good. I’m excited,” the smile that followed was blinding, and Doc felt dizzy when they made eye contact; he had no doubt he was. His lips formed a gentle smile on their own accord. 

“Vide te mox ( _see you soon_ ).” He spoke after a moment, giving the table a little wave and turning to leave. 

“Was that Latin?” He heard Rook ask just before the cafeteria door closed. 

——-

The car ride - an Uber, by recommendation of Twitch and Rook - to the airport was lively and filled with conversation despite the early hour. When they first got in the car (a gray 2017 Dodge Journey his app told him, luckily Castle knew what the car looked like because Doc wasn’t a car guy), Doc had cold feet; it wasn’t as if he could cancel his plans but he was starting to dread the upcoming days. So much could go wrong; would his family recognize him after being gone for nearly two years? Could he stay in the house that fostered some of his worst memories from two years ago and not be driven back into reclusiveness? 

Castle picked up on his tense attitude and quietness, must have known the reason to his rapidly bouncing leg, and immediately started recounting a story about Blackbeard, a gallon of maple syrup, and a long drive to the hospital that had Doc simultaneously dissolving into laughter and worried about the state of the American military. 

Only after their Uber pulled into parking to let them out at the airport did Doc realize Castle distracted him for an entire hour.

 ——

Boarding the plane was surprisingly smooth and pain free. Doc would have to remember this company when he needed to book another flight. 

They made their way to their seats (first class, Doc made enough that he could afford the extra comfort) and began the process of storing their carry-ons and getting comfortable. Doc texted his mother and sister that he was on the plane, receiving lightning fast replies; after a moment, he decided to also send a text to the GIGN’s group chat - the one without Lion - and set his phone aside. A thin blanket and pillow wrapped in plastic was placed neatly in his seat, which Doc pushed under his seat for later use and set his eyes on the screen attached to the wall in front of him. After tapping through the manual, he was brought to a wide selection of movies and songs; locked from playing until after the attendants went over the safety speech. Some new movies were  present but it was mostly older films, including some from the 60s and 70s. He couldn’t stop the little noise of excitement he made when his eyes landed on  _ Maurice.  _ Castle glanced over with a questioning look. 

“My favorite movie. I haven’t watched it in years,” Doc explained, Castle nodding along. What a bland way to put it, ‘my favorite movie’, as if it wasn’t more than that. A movie focusing on a man’s homosexuality that was released by a country other than France. A movie where a man finds love rather than death at the end of the film. A movie that humanized gay men while the aids epidemic roared in America; a fear that traveled overseas and would eventually meet the ears of a young Gustave, whose father cursed bloody murder at American doctors who refused to treat the disease. A movie that helped him in more ways than one. 

“Well, we can watch it after the announcement if you want,” Castle offered, eyeing a flight attendant who was heading towards a microphone that was undoubtedly hooked up to the plane’s speakers. 

“I would like that.” 

The smile they shared was cut off as the pleasant voice of a woman called for their attention. 

( _ Maurice _ was just as good as Doc remembered and could barely contain his emotions when Castle said he loved it.) 

(Doc learned a lot on the flight. Castle’s sister Maya was a surgeon, Malcolm a psychiatrist, the twins both teachers at the same private school in New York. Castle graduated at the top of all his classes. Castle liked football, the one with the brown ball not the one Americans called soccer. Castle was fine with PDA. Castle doesn’t mind that Doc fell asleep on him. Castle is becoming irreplaceable.)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait, I have been so busy recently D: and sorry its not very long but I hope you enjoy!

It was funny how quickly things happen. Perhaps not funny, but it was like a disbelieving laugh that quickly died when it realized how serious the situation was, because everything was fine until Doc saw the twinkling cityscape of Paris under them, then the nervousness hit again.  

This was more than a white lie. White lies were harmless, innocent in nature, replacements to harsh truths. He was quite familiar with white lies: “I went to bed at 10”, “This won’t hurt”, “You’re going to be fine”: used them frequently in his profession. White lies can’t even be considered true lies, rather, coverups of a sort. Most people don’t fact check white lies, no real consequence. So this isn’t a white lie, but it’s not a true lie. Maybe this lie will strengthen his bond with his mother; she would see this perfectly constructed relationship and think her son is healing from their sudden loss. He left home distraught, with a plan to never return. Left ugly twisting words behind to torment the house and all its inhabitants, spawned from the desire to show them his black wailing heart.  

He dreaded seeing his mother, what if she was still upset with him? (Of course not, an ignored voice in his head whispered, you talk to her on the phone all the time, she never sounded upset.) She had every right to still be mad at him, but he knew it would destroy him if he couldn’t reunite with his family, which is why it’s an enigma as to why he always starts fights with them. Him and his mother always seemed to be at odds with each other, she never supported his goals if they didn’t match her idea of what he should be doing, and he never reached her standards. But they always had a buffer between them, someone to remind them that they were family and brought their two sides together. The buffer was removed and they weren’t ready to be thrust at each other. His sister tried to replace the buffer but it wasn’t the same and it wasn’t long before they were all at each other’s throats. He could see his sister’s pitying look; she sided with their mother. Something broke underfoot as he left the very same night. His mother screamed from behind him and that’s when he saw that sad look on his sister’s face.  

A constricting warmth circled his left hand as Castle took his hand into his own. He watched muscles rise and fall as his hand was squeezed lightly. And perhaps it was the doctor in him, but he couldn’t help but notice that Castle had very attractive hands with prominent veins. He was distracted for a moment as his eyes traveled over Castle’s forearms, running up and down his veins; it was a shame he never really needed to give the other man an IV, it would be all too easy.  

He remembered taking phlebotomy, how he had to find volunteers that would allow him to poke them with a needle. His sister volunteered; he was grateful until he saw her arm. He couldn’t find a single vein, even when he tied her forearm off and put a hot towel over it. Of course, he managed to find a vein but afterwards they would joke that Odile didn’t have any blood. It’s been a while since he saw her smile.  

“Gustave.”  

It was odd to hear his name spoken by a colleague that wasn’t GIGN, but the way it rumbles in Castle’s chest before being spoken in that handsome American accent made up for it.  

He hummed, looking up at Castle. 

“Ready to go?” Castle asked neutrally, but his searching eyes gave away his intent.  

High perception wasn’t an uncommon quality in Rainbow, but everyone’s perception was unique. Doc didn’t know another person who not only could read faces like a book, but also act on it other than Castle. The man was damn observant because Doc knew he didn’t show emotions well, especially anxiety; it makes him a good doctor.  

But it was almost getting annoying; he wasn’t used to this kind of attention, it was almost like being called out.  

Castle squeezed his hand lightly, reminding him of the question.  

_(“Ready to go?”)_  

Was he?  

He missed his mother, his sister and her fiancée; missed France and its atmosphere, the warm relaxed feeling that his family home produced. 

Yes.  

Perhaps it wouldn’t be the same. Irreversible teared by fake hate and mistreated love. A broken bone can heal but it will never be the same as it was before. Perhaps love isn’t that simple, but Doc was never one to over-treat an injury.  

He nodded and Castle squeezed his hand one last time before retracting. Doc already missed the warmth; his skin held the heat for a moment, creating uneven spots of warmth. His hands curled together trying to hold the warmth to his skin, as if they could recreate the feeling. But his hands weren’t warm like Castle’s were and the warmth faded into startling un-livelihood.  

The plane bounced as it touched French ground, reminding him he had to collect his things. 

——  

It was almost as if no time had passed. Sunlight streamed through the huge airport windows when they exited the plane, temporarily blinding the two resulting in Castle bumping into the edge of a wall and the two laughing themselves silly. It was a short affair, but it relieved the tension in Doc’s chest caused by stepping into France.  

Doc followed closely behind Castle, his head down as he texted, eyes flicking up every other second to watch where he was going. His mother said she would be waiting outside their gate over text, which he relayed to Castle who nodded. The signs in the airport were all in French but the other man led them through the crowds with confidence, allowing Doc to text his GIGN teammates back without worrying about getting lost. Twitch wished him well and made him promise to get pictures of the wedding to show her; Rook demanded that Doc get him some French candies as the American ones were ‘equivalent to plastic’. He snorted quietly at that, those ‘Tootsie Rolls’ that Valkyrie was so fond of really were abominations to the taste buds.  

“Gustave.” 

Doc glanced up, pocketing his phone when Castle stopped and looked down at him. “The gate is just up ahead.” A quick glance around the bustling airport confirmed it. But that’s not what Castle really wanted to say. A silent warning hid under the statement. _You can still back out,_ it seemed to whisper. And perhaps he could, it would be easy grab Castle’s hand and pull him away to explore France on their own. No uncertain reunions or expectations.  

But Doc worked with the unexpected, lived in uncertainty; never backed out of it then and he wouldn’t now. He nodded; Castle searched his face with hard eyes. A vagrant thought dropped itself at his feet, _I much prefer it when he’s smiling._ Not finding what he was looking for, his hard eyes crinkled with an easy smile that Doc reciprocated. _That's better_. “Come on then,” he spoke gently through his smile, waiting for Doc to sidle up with him before continuing their journey through the airport.  

Without his phone to distract him, the situation caught up to him and maybe he wasn’t ready after all. Distance makes the heart fonder as the saying went, but Doc doesn’t remember fondness feeling like a quick pulse and a sudden urge to run. He pushed it down, taking slow, deep breaths. A calm voice guided him through his rhythmic breathing. At first, the voice sounded like his own voice coaxing a startled Ying down from a flashback: _“In for five, listen to me, 1 2 3 4 5. Out for five, 1 2 3 4 5. You’re doing great, keep listening to me. Again, breathe in for five...”_ It morphed, twisted into a familiar voice that spoke the same words he did. A voice from his childhood that sparked a shimmery memory of a sharp pain in his arm and soft warmth around him. It slipped away, sand in his hands. He shakes the residue out of his mind and continues on with Castle; shivers once at the ghostly feeling of warmth coming off the other man. 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this chapter's format is super spaced out and I can't fix it, but it's still readable!

Doc sees her first. She stands near the baggage claim, flanked by her daughters, her dark eyes flicking across the crowd, searching. She’s majestic, striking, and above all, imposing. Even with her small stature, she could part crowds in the same manner a monarch could; that is of course, without raising a finger. 

His mother looked to have barely changed since he last saw her. She was far from her youthful beauty, but time had not been unfair: a halo of shining silver had replaced her dark, glossy hair, her smooth skin aged gracefully to show a regality that only a woman could wear, further accented by high cheekbones, a sharp jawline and brow, and a strong nose. But her eyes, dark and deep, hadn’t changed, and Doc would bet they never will. 

Those same dark eyes locked onto Doc’s like a magnet despite the distance and people between them; it was as if she could sense where her children  were at all times , or perhaps she felt his eyes on her. The latter seems more  likely, but the former feels right. Her eyes were stern, with the same drooping lids and brown irises as Doc - the only trait he seemed to inherit from her - as they searched Doc’s face. For a moment, he is reminded of Castle on the plane; and wasn’t he just lucky that he the two most observant people’s le in the whole world are the ones he would be closest with for the next week. 

He schooled his features into a cool mask of impassivity; a special trick Thatcher showed him once, raising his eyebrows just a centimeter makes all the difference. A fool he was for thinking he could hide from his mother, his own blood, in plain sight. His anxiety peeks it’s jittery head from behind the bars of indifference and his mother frowns at the sight; not a good sign for a first impression. 

His view of her is cut off as a group of tall men pass between them; he wasn’t sure if that was a blessing in disguise or not, but it gave him a chance to collect his thoughts, weigh his options. A hundred feet away was his mother and his sister who hadn’t noticed him, too busy with her fiancée. Lovesick fool, he thinks with a grim sneer. He gave that up a while ago, love. It’s just a distraction. He shakes his head minutely, not now. 

Stoicism didn’t work, maybe he didn’t wear it good enough. He lifts himself up and rolls out his shoulders, frowns as an afterthought, no too pouty; straightens his features and raises his brow instead, too passive. He can’t look yielding, that’s his mother’s least favorite thing to see; right after her selfish son, who disappeared for a year and expects their relationship to be the same as before. He almost snorts at the thought, yeah, that seems pretty accurate. What a temper tantrum he threw; or at least that’s what his mother would call it. Though, his mother surprisingly never addressed that night. Maybe it was because he wasn’t the only one at fault; you don’t work yourself up into a fit like that by yourself. And she never did acknowledge her own flaws, stubborn mule. He couldn’t count on all the hands in the world how many times that that personality trait started an argument that- he’s cut off as he bumps into something, someone. He’s momentarily thrown off balance, probably would’ve fallen if the person didn’t grab his arm to steady him. An apology is already on his lips when he realizes it’s just Castle. Castle with a gentle smile and amusement twinkling in his eyes. 

“Lost in thought?” He asks. 

“Something like that,” Doc answers impassively, still stinging from the embarrassment of the impact. 

Castle gives a disbelieving hmph, “Well, have you seen them?”

Back to the present problem; a bucket of cold water poured on his head. He nods reluctantly, “This way.” Waits for Castle to step towards him and leads the way through the crowd, all with a sticky sense of dread building up in him. The tall men had dispersed some, and he could see his mother through the gaps in the crowd. He couldn’t help but snort at the sight of her; even at a family reunion she was wearing a business formal pantsuit, she probably didn’t even own a pair of jeans. 

Something warm touches his forearm, he doesn’t pay any attention to the feeling until it starts to travel down his arm. He glances down to see Castle’s hand slide down his arm and gently take ahold of his wrist. It only rests there for a moment before his fingers slide into the center of Doc’s palm and branch out to interlock themselves with Doc’s own. He squeezes the other man’s hand and can’t help the little uplift of his lips when the motion is mimicked. The feeling grounds him and he can focus on the warmth of the surprisingly smooth palm in his rather than his own worries. He rolls out his shoulders and looks ahead with a smile, ready to put on a damn show for his family. 

It only takes a couple seconds to make it to his family, but it feels like centuries have passed when Doc finally stops a couple feet in front of his mother. Odile’s conversation dies off when she notices  him, but she doesn’t greet him, instead looking between him and their mother. It was a sign of respect to let their mother have the first words. And the woman demanded respect. 

Up close, Doc notices more. His mother has more wrinkles than she did two years ago, her forehead seems to have a permanent mark from frowning so much; he was probably the reason for that. Her crow’s feet hadn’t seemed to deepen like her other wrinkles, and that brought him a certain kind of sadness. He looks away from her; all he can see are the remnants of that night two years ago and all he wants to do is ignore it. It makes him feel guilty, something that he isn’t because it was her fault the night ended like that and he wouldn’t apologize for her mistake; he had done it too many times in the past. 

Castle sways against him but doesn’t say anything; he can read the atmosphere like a children’s book and Doc appreciates the it.

His mother steps forward, her short heels making a sharp click on the ground that sparks a memory from years and years ago when he asked her why her shoes were so loud:  _ ‘It’s to remind people who’s in charge. The noise grabs attention, the face grabs submission.’ She had said as she cut up apples and young Gustave wasn’t sure what that meant - submission - but her tone was closed off and all he really wanted was for her to hurry up. _

Bracelets jingle as his mother raises her arms, Doc refuses to look at the shining metal even as they rise in his field of view; the twisted gold and silver of one of the bracelets is too much to stand. He knows what she wants, but he’s reluctant to give it to her. 

Castle decides for him by letting Doc’s hand go and taking a step back, gives them a sense of having their own bubble. An angry jingle, his mom frowns at him with her hands up. He takes a slow step forwards, officially in the danger zone. She’s a good four inches shorter than him but that never stopped her before.

She takes his face in her small hands, the pads of her fingers are deceptively smooth on his jaw. Her fingers are cold against his skin and the feeling makes him a little bit nervous, the symbolism isn’t lost on him. He looks to the space above her shoulder and shifts on his feet, his arms hang awkwardly at his sides. His mother huffs, he probably looks pathetic: a scolded child that knows they did wrong but doesn’t want to admit it. Her hands grip his face firmly and, with effort, turns his head to the side to force him to look at her. His eyes flit around her face, avoiding her gaze with practiced efficiency. But she wouldn’t take that as an answer; she wasn’t one to be ignored, which was difficult when that’s all he wanted to do. She pulls him down with startling force until their faces are centimeters apart. Far too close; he reels back only to be jerked back down. He almost attempts a second attempt until he looks into her narrowed eyes. 

She’s so unbelievably vulnerable. The frown persists but it doesn’t do anything to guard her emotions. He wants to pull away from her grip, sees himself move in his mind’s eye, but he stays rooted in place; a man stuck in the hypnotizing gaze of Medusa. Her eyes are so melancholic, so agonizingly heartbroken that for a moment, he forgets he has a grudge against her. 

This is his mother. The woman who raised him, kissed him goodnight, cried when he graduated. This is why he didn’t want to look her in the eyes, guilt is a sharp and throbbing pain; like touching a bruise 

“Mon bébé ( _ my baby) _ ,” she whispers, “Tu m'as manqué ( _ I missed you _ ).” 

Five words and his will  breaks like a dam, rushing waters of emotion escaping. 

“ Maman ( _ momma _ ),” he rasps. She squeezes his cheeks, a watery smile stretching across her lips, and pulls him flush against her in a tight hug. One arm coming up to grab the back of his neck and the other wrapping around his waist in a secure hold. 

It was odd, he didn’t hug people often; kept his greetings to air kisses (his French teammates and Central European CTUs) or handshakes (everyone else). But this felt comfortable; perhaps it was because of who was hugging him or the memories it brought. Her fingers ran through his hair, sparking an old memory: standing in the doorway of his childhood home with cold rain pouring down on him, being pulled into a warm hug with whispered reassurances. 

He should have visited sooner, but he left on a bad note and never did know how to apologize. 

They stayed like that for only a moment, totally alone in their own world, before pulling away. Her hands stayed on his  forearms; the feeling shouldn’t have been so reassuring. She gave him a faint smile that he returned shakily; the weight of the reunion being lifted off his shoulders left him a bit lightheaded. It was almost surreal, something like this going so well. The love was still there, but it would take some time to reacquaint themselves. He could see the hidden words she wanted to say, loose ends that needed to be tied up. 

“ Maman , I -“ He started but was interrupted by his mother shushing him. 

“Later,” his mother reassures in French with a smile, “right now, introduce me to your boyfriend.” He’s a little confused by her immediate friendliness but unwilling to question it and possibly ruin the mood. When he turns to gesture to Castle, the man is already looking at him with a small smile, and he might be imagining it, but the man almost seemed… proud. 

“My god, he’s quite tall, isn’t he?” His mother interrupts his thoughts to state the obvious. “Yeah, he is,” he agrees and waves the giant over. 

“ Maman , this is Miles. Miles, this is my  Maman .” He introduces as Castle stops in front of them. His mother must be feeling brave, or perhaps cheeky, as she gestures for him to lean down so she can air kiss him.  Often times , they don’t bother trying to air kiss Americans; the cultural difference is too much and the Americans tend to embarrass themselves during the process. Castle was an exception, expertly receiving the kisses and why wasn’t Doc surprised?

“A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Kateb,” Castle replies in his perfect French with his perfect smile. 

“Oh please, call me Safiya. Only my business partners call me Mrs.  Kateb .”’

Doc’s eyebrows raise, only one person was ever allowed to call her by her first name; Castle must have made an excellent first impression. Though, when him and Doc first met, he thought the same thing. The man oozed confidence and maturity, a striking difference from the first American teammate Doc had met, a goofy man by the name of Thermite who would eventually grow on him. His  Maman grabs his shirt sleeve and pulls him closer to whisper in his ear, “Gustave, where on earth did you find such a man? So tall and handsome with such a beautiful, deep voice; French was made to be spoken by him.” 

Her whisper wasn’t as quiet as she intended, though he had a sneaking suspicion that she wasn’t really trying to hide her voice judging by her cheeky grin. Castle, for his part, just thanks her quietly. 

“I guess I got lucky,” Doc replies, catching Castle’s eye with his own and giving him a smile.

A tap on his arm has him turning to find the culprit standing behind him, hands on hips. Odile frowns at him, and she looks stressed; whether it was from the upcoming wedding or from this meeting, he wasn’t sure. Her under-eyes are dark, part of it is smudged mascara, and her hair is thrown up into a  _ messy _ bun. Overall, she looks tired and half-way put together. 

“You better not have forgotten about me.” She cautions. 

“You make it hard to, loud-mouth.” 

Her lips tighten. 

He narrows his eyes, copied by his sister. For a moment, he’s reminded of the old western movies that Thermite was always watching in the common room, now all they needed was a tumbleweed. 

Castle brushes against his arm, a vaguely nervous look in his eyes. It almost breaks Doc’s straight face; so endlessly amusing and a little bit cute. 

Odile rolls her shoulders out, takes a step forward to stand right in front of him, and promptly breaks into giggles. He’s pulled into her arms before he can protest it; increasingly aware of his height when she rests her head on his. At 6 feet tall, she definitely didn’t inherit their mother’s height like he had, something he was never allowed to forget; even now, at 42 years old. 

“My god, Gus!” She exclaims when they part, her hands circling around his forearm, the tips of her index fingers just barely touching one another. “Your arms are as wide as Russia!” 

He huffs out a laugh, “Just about.” Odile exclaims and leans forward to press a kiss beside each of his cheeks, “Almost forgot!” It’s not surprising but he still shakes his head lightly, “Now where’s my favorite sister?” 

Odile pouts, “She’s not even your sister yet.” The woman in question rubs her arm to placate her. Lucienne is a couple inches shorter than Doc, with bobbed strawberry blonde hair that effortlessly curls into cherub-like locks. In fact, she looked quite  similar to the cherubs that were sculpted in the Vatican: rosy plump cheeks, round eyes, and a small nose which contrasted Odile’s sharp features and athletic build. 

“And yet she’s my favorite,” he replies amusedly, “How are you Luci?” 

“I’m doing wonderfully,” she answered between cheek kisses, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I’m so glad you could make it.” 

Doc pauses.

Castle catches his eyes from over his sister’s shoulder. 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the life of me.” 

Smiles flash on everyone’s faces, but Castle’s was the brightest, the attention grabber. It was big and proud; Doc thinks it’s a good look on him (or maybe just smiling was a good look on him). 

A loud buzz startled the group, the luggage belt behind them coming to life with a groan. Right, they still had to get their suitcases and drive to his mother’s house where they would be saying for the week; speaking of that - “Who drove to the airport?” 

“Odile did,” his mother answered. 

“Oh god.” 

“Shut up! My driving is not bad!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow new chapter!

Her driving was bad. 

Doc was almost offended at how truly terrible it was. He was the one who taught her how to drive, as their parents were often too busy to sit down and let her drive them around parking lots and backroads for hours on end. And she repays him for his hard and dangerous work by showing that she learned  _ absolutely nothing _ from his lessons. 

“Odile, I am seriously concerned for my health,” he moans after her fifth abrupt slamming of the breaks. 

“Quit pestering your sister,” his mother threatens at the same time as his sister complains, “Shut up, you backseat driver.” 

“Odile, don’t tell your brother to shut up.” 

Odile throws her head back and groans loudly. Luci gives Doc a knowing look, “I think she missed you.” He huffs, she sure did show it in an odd way. But it’s… relieving in a way; a look back into a normalcy he hasn’t seen in years. It almost seems too good to be true, that the forgiveness of his mother and sister has come too soon.

“ So Miles, tell me about yourself,” expertly guiding the conversation to something new, “Gustave has been stingy on details,” his mother sends him a pointed look to which he gives a one armed shrug. Truth was he didn’t give details because he wasn’t  actually dating anyone (and still isn’t) and didn’t want to mix himself up with little details. And thank god he didn’t, because that meant literally anyone could fit the spot of imaginary boyfriend. 

Castle seems to understand this, judging by the look he gives Doc, “What  would you like to know?” 

“Anything!” 

“Well,” he pauses to think, “I’m the oldest of six -“ . Everyone but Doc gasps. It is quite a surprising  amount of siblings, and Doc would be in shock too if he didn’t already know. 

“My god! I couldn’t imagine having four more Gustaves in the house!” His sister exclaims and Doc sends a deadpan look at Castle who chuckles. 

“I always wanted a sibling, but five seems like too much,” Lucienne giggles. 

“You get used to it,” Castle replies with a smile. 

“I wish I didn’t have a sibling,” their mother smacks Odile’s arm at her comment, hushing her protests and returning to the conversation. 

“Hopefully. And you were born in America, yes? You have an American accent,” his mother asks, twisting to look over her shoulder at them. 

“Yes ma’am, born and raised in Sherman Oaks, California.”

“Oh California! I’ve been there a couple times, it’s very hot.” They both laughed, sounding like English mums having an afternoon  teatime and gossiping about the latest blunder in the community. His mother carried on, “And how did you two meet?” 

Castle looked to Doc, “We work together.” He flipped his hand palm up and made a grabbing motion with his fingers. Doc watches the gesture in confusion until it snaps in his mind; Castle wants to hold hands. Reaching over, Doc takes his hand into his own, resting their  hands on Castle’s knee; their fingers locking together naturally. 

“Miles is part of the FBI SWAT in Rainbow,” he explains, looking back up at Castle, “I think the first time we met was after your first mission in Belarus when I had to pick shrapnel out of your hand.” 

On the plane, they decided to keep their ‘backstory’ as truthful as possible so they wouldn’t get confused, with some additional details to make their friendship seem more romantic. 

“Didn’t even leave a mark, only to be expected from such a talented doctor,” Castle grinned, “but now I wear gloves.” 

“If only your teammate would do the same.” 

Castle laughs at his grumping, “I’m not sure he ever will.” 

His mother smiled at them, not understanding the reference to Thermite but unwilling to let that stop her, “Miles, you must have a code name, yes? Gustave told me he was called Doc, what do they call you?” 

“Oh, they call me Castle.” His mother tilts her head in confusion at the English word, so Castle translates it to French, “Château (Castle).” 

“Oh! Because you are so strong and beautiful?” 

“Maman,” Doc groans lowly. Odile cackles at him, “Good! Now you know how I feel!”

——

The car ride was longer than Doc remembered ; perhaps it was the  evening  traffic that was slowing them down so much or  maybe he just forgot how long the ride home was.

It was quiet for a while; his mother gave up her interrogation in favor of chatting quietly to Odile and Luci about the wedding. Castle absentmindedly stroked Doc’s hand with his thumb as he watched the Paris cityscape fly past. Doc ignored the way his hairs stood on end at the sensation, chalking it up as his body’s reaction to the foreign warmth on his cold hand. 

Doc scooted towards Castle to look out his window with him, feeling awkward for it but they were ‘dating’, which means he needs to be affectionate and close to Castle. The other man didn’t seem to mind, in fact, he shifted to accommodate him.

A flashy metal sign catches his attention as the car stops at a red light, “Doux sons  magasin de musique  _ (Sweet Sounds Music Store) _ .” 

Castle glances at him, “What’s that?”

The good thing about English was that his family didn’t understand it; his mother could read some English but that was about it. Doc could speak to Castle without his family knowing what they were talking about. 

“What’s does Thermite call that brunch place, Sunnyside Up?” 

“A damn fine meal,” he drawls in an exaggerated accent.

Doc shakes his head with a small lift of his lips, “Yes but no. It’s something like mom and dad.”

“Oh, a mom and pop restaurant.”

“Yes, that’s what Sweet Sounds is like. The owner is,” a noisy pause, “was, an old woman named Margaret. It was a nice place, with a lounge and a soda machine. I used to go there a lot with my fa-friends.” 

It was a barely noticeable mistake, quickly covered up and yet Castle still gave him a look. 

_ Father. _

_Standing at the window of Sweet Sounds as he explained the meaning behind a Beatles’ song to Doc, who didn’t understand English nor the_ _abstract_ _idea_ _of unfairness._

_ Standing in the lobby of the hospital, the hospital he controlled, waiting for Maman to let them in to see the baby, as he explained the ins and outs of medical practice.  _

_ Standing by the couch in their house as he ranted himself red, Doc’s teenage flippant attitude not taking in any of his words that he would later regret.  _

_ Standing at the kitchen countertop as he quizzed Doc on his medical knowledge to ensure he was ready for his college finals.  _

_ Standing by the door every day after Doc left for the French Armed Forces, wishing he made Doc promise to return.  _

_ Sitting at the table as he broke the news with uncharacteristic tears to everyone but Doc.  _

“Gustave,” whispered quietly, a blanket of warmth.

His eyes sting. 

Castle tugs him against his side; the angle uncomfortable, his side stings as it stretches, but his body shuts up when something kiss shaped is pressed against his forehead. Castle has already covered the spot with his cheek by the time Doc recognizes the shape as lips, Castle’s lips. 

It was… nice. 

It almost made him feel bad. It was just pretend; he couldn’t get attached.

He didn’t get much affection from anyone, but he knew that would happen when he had to play the part of ‘bad guy’ at base to get his patients to get the treatment they need. Of course, his GIGN teammates were affectionate towards him , but he limited it. He was a  doctor in the largest global anti-terroris m unit in t he world , he  was a  professional and he would act like one . 

“Gustave, how does rooster with wine sound for dinner?” His mother meets his eyes from the mirror, she doesn’t quite smile but her eyes soften. Something in her gaze stings him, something that he was sure he had seen before; a box of personal effects thrown out the door and thunderstorms under their roof. Castle squeezes his shoulder, kickstarting Doc. He presses his cheek into Castle’s shoulder before pulling away to sit up, “It sounds amazing as long as you use chicken instead of rooster.” 

“So picky!” She huffs, “But I knew you would say  that, so I went ahead and bought some.” 

“That’s why you’re the best  Maman in the world.” 

“No matter how much you flatter her, I’ll always be the favorite!” Odile interjects with a grin that quickly falls when their mother responds with, “Actually, Luci is my favorite.”

“I’m so glad we are almost home, everyone in this car is against me,” Odile groans, their mother smacks her arm lightly in retribution. 

“We all love each other in this car.” 

Something about the way she says it sounds wrong. It was too forceful, like she was demanding it. 

Like she didn’t believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr, @juduseye ! I'd love to hear your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr @juduseye for extremely (not) funny content! Come say hi and chat to me about anything <3


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